


Something about Sea Turtles...

by RainingPrince



Series: Theoretically Canon-Compliant but largely unrelated Good Omens shorts [8]
Category: Good Omens (Radio), Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Books, Other, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:01:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23958109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainingPrince/pseuds/RainingPrince
Summary: Some flash bastard takes forever in a bookshop.
Series: Theoretically Canon-Compliant but largely unrelated Good Omens shorts [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594831
Comments: 4
Kudos: 86





	Something about Sea Turtles...

**Author's Note:**

> Brief mention of food.

It was a bright sunny afternoon in the middle of Spring, birds chirping outside and the daffodils were just reaching the end of their lifespan. 

The shop itself, by contrast, was very dark; many of the light bulbs had long since flickered out. Nobody had yet gotten around to replacing them, they were too high up; and fitting a ladder between the looming shelves had been an exhausting prospect no one was interested in attempting. It had been put off for years.

And yet he still hadn’t removed his sunglasses.

It seemed improbable that he could actually see any titles of books in such dismal conditions, let alone read them with those flashy dark eye covers. But he still perused with a disinterest that felt decidedly manufactured.

The stranger was… well, honestly there were so many words that Trevor could think of to describe him, for now let’s go with Pretentious. His dark hair was carefully swept out of his face, and snakeskin shoes that didn’t really look like shoes poked out from under skinny jeans. He moved with a slink that didn’t look comfortable, perhaps he had a spinal condition?

He’d started near the front, where the philosophical discussions were kept, and had slowly worked his way around the entire front room. He had done a thorough lap around every shelf and double checked, before moving upstairs to peruse the older poetry.

Trevor had been in the business a long time, this shop had been his Uncle’s since before he’d been born, and that had been oh- nearly 70 years ago now. He had suspected from the start that this one knew what he was looking for, however after watching the stranger read every single title of every single book with a never tiring steadfast expression, he had at some point discarded this assessment and begun considering the most brutal solutions to his current boredom instead. He was currently waffling between closing the shop for a spot of lunch and clawing the curtains to ribbons with his bare hands.

It had been nearly two hours, and the stranger had not said a single word to Trevor or anyone else who had been through the shop in that time. Despite his three separate attempts to ask if he could be of some assistance, the stranger had simply looked at him and smiled in a fashion that invoked the image of a periscoping snake, and shook his head.

* * *

Finally, after a whole two hours, a book was slammed onto the counter, pulling Trevor from a nap he hadn’t realised he had been taking. “This one.”

Glancing down, the bookseller recognised the worn book for an older Edward Carpenter title.

Trevor knew better by now than to question anyone’s choice in literature; but he still found it oddly fascinating that it took so bloody long for the stranger to decide on this, of all things. He had quite the collection, the shop being several generations old. The stock was quite the eclectic accumulation of various family members' preferences. Perhaps he had a soft spot for poetry? Or perhaps he felt awkward about browsing so long so he grabbed something at random?

Either way he dutifully opened the book, scanned the sticker, and offered the stranger a bag for his purchase.

He declined, mumbling something about sea turtles, and left without a further word.

What a strange fellow.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the book is for Aziraphale.


End file.
